


Get That out of Your Mouth (You Have No Idea Where It's Been)

by grinchfucker



Category: How the Grinch Stole Christmas (2000), How the Grinch Stole Christmas! - Dr. Seuss, grinch - Fandom
Genre: Dominant Masochism, F/M, Humiliation, M/M, Masochism, Multi, Other, Porn With Plot, Sadomasochism, Urolagnia, Verbal Abuse, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports, tease and denial
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:53:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23328049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grinchfucker/pseuds/grinchfucker
Summary: grinchfuckers of the world unite. the only reason I opened an AO3 account was to post the dirty, filthy, hair-raising Grinch porn that I wanted to see in the world. this is the errant tale of how the Grinch becomes a mythical fuck monster that satisfies all of Whoville's basest needs, scraping the bottom of the depths of depravity.
Relationships: The Grinch & Original Character(s), The Grinch/Augustus Maywho, The Grinch/Cindy Lou Who, The Grinch/Martha May Whovier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	1. Prologue: Formative

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for highly explicit content and highly specific kinks. not responsible for scarring of any sort or newly discovered kinks of any kind.

For forty-five years, a mythos had slowly risen and curdled around the stinky, grizzled monstrosity that lay in wait for the fearful and unsuspecting atop the Whoville mountain. At first it had lived an existence of nondescript anonymity, for precious few suspected and even fewer knew what had happened that day it had stormed up the bitter icy slopes of Mount Crumpit in as blind a fury as any eight-year-old thrown into a rage could be.

Forced by the teacher to reveal his _hideodorous_ visage to a class of taunting peers, the Grinch had had no stomach for the vicious mockery of laughter that reverberated throughout the classroom. His face, besieged by an unwieldy pair of clippers he’d found in one of his old biddies’ drawers, now hairless, certainly, but pocked and scarred irreparably. The humiliation of a budding crush cruelly snuffed out by the knowledge that he would never be good enough, not _Who_ enough, for Martha May. That greasy, gormless cretin Augustus May-Who was right about one thing, perhaps—he had done a hack job, _was_ a hack job. The hack angel he’d made for Martha lay in fragments on the ground.

At the summit of northernmost Whoville, the little Grinch panted, his too-tight shoes pinching the ends of his twelve, tender, too-long toes. He’d found a little respite next to the delicious stink of the Whoville garbage dump, deposited high enough that they could imagine it gone. The cold was a relief, despite the freezing wind stinging through his fresh shaving cuts. Not for the first time, he missed his beard, cursing himself for his baseless naivete, wishing he hadn’t been excited about Christmas, about _her_ , about anything in the first fucking place. He’d scrabbled in the pile and found a few mouth-watering glass jars, and one particularly misshapen ceramic figurine. They’d made for a spot of comfort food, before he’d found himself at the mouth of what turned out to be a gigantic cavern at the peak of the mountain. There he’d stood, hating the Whos, letting the betrayal, anger and hurt ferment and fester in his very core. It had been a formative experience for him. Perhaps the most formative.

The Grinch had been left blessedly alone for most of the rest of his pre-pubescent years, save for the discovery of a dog left wandering in the mountain woods ( _Oh, sure, make yourself at home. Who am I anyway? I only live here. At least you’ll make a good footstool. And don’t throw up on the couch! That’s my job._ ) and running into a few intrepid Who hikers, who couldn’t decide if they’d seen the queer little whatsit kid who’d vanished a few years back, or an algae-ridden bipedal bear, or an Abominable Snow-Who. Then the rumours began.


	2. A Low Hiss and Grunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when I think about you, I touch my elf. but he isn't an elf. he's a teenage grinchbag. and he's coming, but it's been interrupted.

Contrary to anything the Grinch was capable of admitting to himself, he did sometimes crave a companion who wasn’t a long-suffering canine. He didn’t mind having had to teach himself tinkering and construction. He hadn’t enjoyed the noise and bustle of Whoville, and being by himself only allowed him to pick things up quicker without the distraction of a raucous, dull classroom. But as the Grinch aged into maturity, he found the stirrings of his baser urges—well, bothersome. Not confusing—among the many, many objects the Whos disposed of were some incredibly instructive books. The gamut of Whovian biology and gasping, paperbacked romances were available to the Grinch, and he had always been a quick study. Now more than ever, a new dimension of pleasure had opened up to him, momentarily better than eating glass or crushing raw onion between his teeth. He’d come into this new hunger later, it seemed, than the average Who, but his desire was as intense as if it were making up for lost time.

It was in the midst of one of these intense urges that the Grinch had been caught unawares, pleasuring himself, in the crook of a pine tree. He’d rolled his pulsing knob between his large, long fingers, the lime-green fur tufts that tipped his digits catching delectably on the moisture that beaded at his foreskin. With a low hiss and grunt, his eyes had rolled back into their sockets as his breath grew shallow. He was so close. A balmy, uninterrupted day before he’d learnt to stay indoors to conduct his business—before he’d been chanced upon by three teenage Who hikers, whose panicked rustling and stumbling had made the Grinch’s eyes fly open.

Wilting erection in hand, he’d started in unseeing panic, backing up against the tree, but two of the teenagers had already fled, uncertain but terrified of what they’d seen. The third had seemed more entranced than alarmed, his wide eyes mirroring the fussy curls atop his head. Both their eyes widened with recognition, and the Grinch, filled anew with blazing anger, frustration, self-loathing and humiliation, seized the front of Augustus May-Who’s coat—using the same hand he’d used to fondle himself.

Augustus panted, his frantic eyes darting between the direction in which his ‘friends’ had escaped, and the deeply creased face of the Grinch, mere inches from his own. His tongue slipped out to moisten his lips. He inhaled shudderingly, and stuttered, with more fear than remorse, “I-I can explain. We were-I just—” He realised his heart was battening itself against his ribcage with more than fear. A dawning of realisation crept into the Grinch’s eyes.

As if he could smell it, the Grinch pressed his form closer to Augustus, until his softening hard-on grazed against the teenaged Who’s rapidly stiffening one. “What’s your problem? Pervert.” His voice was a low mutter, but the menace was palpable. Augustus moaned helplessly, an unreasonable frisson of arousal sparking through him from the point of their contact. His eyes welled up and he gritted his teeth. The Grinch, just wanting the ill-fated encounter to end so he could turn his attention to finishing, huffed curtly through his nose and slammed Augustus hard against the tree. Augustus slumped to the ground. As the Grinch turned to walk away. Augustus let out a soft whine and grabbed weakly at the Grinch’s ankle.

“What do you want?” the Grinch snapped immediately, jerking his furred foot away.

“I need…” Augustus lowered his gaze in shame. His voice came out in a whispered croak, throat dry. “Please. Wreck me.”


	3. Dank Cantankerous Cavern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more moving parts are introduced, and restrained. auggie gets hit with a sack of dead fish. the grinch loves garlic. who knew? it gets hotter and heavier. contains the phrases "lavish, verdant plump crotch" and "dual lobes". ENJOY.

The Grinch paused, breath growing hot. A twinge of sneering cruelty surfaced in his chest, followed by pangs of wild insecurity. What if it was all a cruel prank? He glanced down at the cringing, almost-drooling Who at his feet. The pompous Augustus May-Who, reduced to a snivelling, undignified mess? No prank Auggie pulled would have placed himself in such a position. In addition, there was the matter of the unimpressive, but obviously excited, pecker straining at his Who shorts.

A grin like a nasty gash crossed the Grinch’s face as he hauled Augustus to his feet. “You seem to be a little…preoccupied at the moment.” Augustus whimpered weakly, knees threatening to buckle again. “Now. Don’t fall again! Ungainly sack of shit.” Glee crept into his features as he realised dear old Auggie was at the mercy of his whims, and moreover, seemed to be getting off on the verbal vitriol. “Time is of the essence, you know. Retreat now or never. I’m very busy, doing—myself. Unless—you can’t resist?”

The Grinch leaned over Augustus, hot breath wafting over his face. Auggie caught a full whiff of it—a mix of musk, black pepper and something that was reminiscent of burning rubber. His cock twitched. It smelled nothing like the pomades and aftershaves the boys had started using—it was powerful. Potent. Virile. As Auggie luxuriated, unconsciously, in the Grinch’s olfactory presence, he’d grabbed Auggie by the fussily-coiffed hair and yanked him in the direction of the rubbish dump-cum-cave he had called home for, more or less, a decade.

“Don’t you know you shouldn’t interrupt others in the middle of something?” the Grinch said, jerking Auggie to his knees with a single blow. Auggie’s chest heaved. Goose bumps ran amok up his arms. He was inside it. He was in _the lair_ of the _Grinch_. They’d speculated and whispered about where he’d disappeared to all these years, and now… he knew. The Grinch seemed against letting Auggie stare around his boudoir, though, and had promptly wound an improvised blindfold around Auggie’s head.

“Is that a Christmas tie?” Auggie’s voice had betrayed confusion and slight amusement before being promptly smacked out of it.

“You don’t ask the questions here,” came the growl. “You shut up and do as you’re told.”

Auggie realised his cock was leaking. He wept while the Grinch divested him of his clothing. Now naked, save for his underwear, he choked on his desire. “I’m going to finish what I started and you so impolitely waylaid.” The wet, shucking sounds of the Grinch jerking off next to his ear surged through his consciousness. Back home, Mrs. May-Who would be steaming up Who-parsnips and perhaps warming up leftover beastloaf for the evening meal. He wished there was some way he could tell her he was going to be very, very late for dinner. The laboured breathing on his neck made his cock twitch. Auggie almost wished the Grinch would pay him more attention.

Just a little bit—that’s all he needed—

As if he had heard, the Grinch bent closer to Auggie’s head, allowing a sliver of tongue to slip out and trace the outer shell of his ear. “Enjoying yourself?” A stink like fermented vegetable matter coupled with the smell of arousal intensified. Auggie’s cock leapt at the unexpected contact. A needy keening noise worked its way from the back of his throat. The room shrank to the Grinch’s low grunting in little huffs. Then the squeak of springs from the other end of the room. With a feline step, the Grinch had moved to sink into his armchair.

“Come here.”

Auggie moved to stumble towards him, but was halted with a thrown bag of what seemed to be half-eaten halibut. “No. I want you to crawl.” Auggie groped his way impotently across the grimy stone. His modest erection bobbed with every movement across the floor. He headed towards the sound of a hair-covered palm spreading precum. Auggie crept as close as he dared before his face grazed the side of a recliner. He probed further and was rewarded with the furred slope of a Grinchy leg. “Closer.” The movements of the Grinch had slowed to an almost anticipatory rhythm. The pit of his belly tightened around an ache he hadn’t expected.

Tenderness was alien to the Grinch, but efficiency came second nature. Auggie had already parsed what was happening, but he couldn’t understand how effortlessly his head had been nudged into the Grinch’s furred crotch. A slick dampness fell across his face. Moaning involuntarily, Auggie pushed his face upwards, trying to take the Grinch’s length in his wanton, slack mouth. It was no time to play coy, but the Grinch had no time for convention. He tapped Auggie’s cheeks roughly with it, moving his hips away each time Auggie reached for it with his mouth, knowing better than to use his hands. Just as Auggie’s own hard-on twitched again, the Grinch guided his cock into his drooling, gasping mouth with a fluid motion.

Auggie’s first reflex was to gag lightly, his tongue squirming along the dual lobes of the Grinch’s engorged member, almost like a snake’s double hemipenes. The Grinch reached down, with the resulting movement pressing his cock even deeper into the back of the snuffling Who’s throat. Bent double, the Grinch started trailing his hair-covered fingertips along the dip of Auggie’s spine, yanking the waistband of his boxers down and ghosting them across the twin globes of his raised ass. His digits descended past a twitching anus to brush against Auggie’s taint.

Auggie’s groan was buried in the pungency of the Grinch’s lavish, verdant, plump crotch. He struggled to breathe while the Grinch made an exquisite motion with his knuckle, causing Auggie’s weeping cockhead to dribble anew. As Auggie frantically tried to snatch gasps of breath through his nose, he became dimly aware of a probing sensation at his entrance. “Ngh!” A strangled moan escaped him. The Grinch cackled softly to himself while inserting what felt like a long, curved, inflexible metal rod with a bulbous head.

The rod slid slightly deeper, its curvature growing insistent against the untried territory of Auggie’s body. The Grinch, however, paused. “Oh, I have an idea for this that’ll make everything even more pleasurable. For me.” He left the curved rod in Auggie’s ass and got up, recliner creaking. “Be just a minute. Stay. Actually, might be interesting to see you struggle with that.” Auggie remained in position, too debased and aroused to make a move. Moments later, he felt the metal rod withdrawing from his ass, replaced by a few smooth almond-shaped objects.

“Do you like garlic, Auggie?” Auggie nodded, then realised what he’d meant, and gasped. The peeled cloves were already inside, being shoved through his tight canal with the bulbed end of the curved rod. They were already starting to feel strangely warm. _This doesn’t feel too bad_. Then the hooked rod pressed them _there_ , into his sweet spot, and Auggie saw showers of colour burst behind his eyelids.


	4. Much More Amusing, No Less Annoying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more filth, just for you. in this hot n piping mess we have: watersports, piss drinking, breathplay(?), bondage, forced oral, hair pulling, verbal abuse, all in the name of humiliation play babey

A harsh, barking shout emerged from Auggie’s open mouth, his eyes rolling back into his head. His hands scrabbled futilely at nothing, underscored by a dark chuckle from behind him. The Grinch angled the anal hook expertly, insistent, pressing so accurately Auggie was certain he was going to fall apart and combust. He’d be nothing but a little pile of garlic and crumpled, smoking boxers by the end of it. The heat of the mashed garlic started spreading, deep within his insides, doing nothing to quell his arousal.

‘Pl—Mm. Ngh.’ Auggie prided himself on an elegant speaking voice and sophisticated manner, but the noises he was making were someone else’s. He could feel the Grinch threading something smoothly through the tip of the rod, knotting it. A hand, cushioned by green fur, curled briefly around his sobbing throat, tilting it backwards. And then the rope—lashed and pulled snug, lifting both his neck and ass towards each other in what surely was an utterly submissive position. Dimly, Auggie wondered how long it would take before it started hurting.

‘Funny what a difference a bit of string and metal makes. Much more amusing. No less annoying, though.’ The Grinch gave an experimental tug on the rope and Auggie mewled anew.

‘Now, where were we?’ Auggie thought he detected a hint of a grin in his tormentor’s—benefactor’s—voice as he carelessly dropped into the tatty armchair again.

‘Ah. Yes.’ Augustus found his head yanked forward in a powerful grip, the direction of the force making the rod thrust up inside him. _Fuck_. A couple of stumbling steps made it apparent that he’d leaked a distinct stream of precum down his right thigh that puddled in a spot his knee now rested in. Thumbs on either side of Auggie’s mouth, hooking in, stretching him wide open.

‘Open wide, baby. That oversized mouth of yours, wasted on making inane observations. Tongue. Out. Now.’ The Grinch fisted a hand in Auggie’s chestnut locks, which Aug not so privately considered his crowning pride and glory. A delighted, fearful shudder ran down the length of Aug’s spine. The strength apparent in such an offhand gesture made it clearer than anything else—this person—this _thing_ —could easily kill him and be done with it. Why did that make Auggie’s cock twitch?

With the other hand, the Grinch started stroking himself in earnest, the tips of his hemipenes brushing Auggie's lips just so. ‘Useless. Gotta do everything around here myself, as usual.’ Auggie could feel the recliner slightly shifting with each strong, smooth motion. As the Grinch’s breathing got shallower, hot wafts of reeking onion descended on Auggie’s face. He shifted to grabbing Auggie’s hair in both hands, grunting aloud now as he forcibly bobbed Auggie’s mouth up and down his twin lobes, faster than Auggie could ever hope to on his own. Auggie’s knee slipped in the pooling precum, scrambling for purchase. The fists in his hair hurt, but all he could do was sneak quick half-breaths through his nose in an attempt to not suffocate to death. His ass, on fire from the garlic, throbbed incessantly from the rough motions of his throat being used as a Grinch cocksleeve. Faintly, he wondered if the Grinch had ever done this before. He didn’t know it yet, but his tears were soaking the blindfold he had on, just as his saliva was drenching the entirety of the Grinch’s crotch.

‘Fuck. Fuck. Ugh, disgusting. _Fuuuuck_.’ Without warning, the Grinch clamped down hard on Auggie’s head, letting out a snarl as his hips bucked. Hot spurts of thick, rancid Grinch jism struck the back of Auggie’s throat. Desperate to not choke, Auggie swallowed desperately, the aftertaste almost curdling his insides. The dual lobes twitched independently in Auggie’s mouth. Gradually, the Grinch’s breathing slowed. The blindfold peeled off easily, and Auggie found himself squinting up at the Grinch, cock in hand, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps slightly less crotchety than before. Auggie let out a sigh of pleasure, and dipped his head as best he could while still trussed up, relaxing a little now that it was over. That wasn’t as bad as—

‘We’re not done here yet.’ The Grinch, almost tenderly, placed one of Auggie’s hands around the base of his limp cock. Auggie scooted closer, slightly confused, wanting to please. _I’ve never jacked anyone off, much less gotten someone hard again. I hope I don’t fuck up—_

‘Aaah.’ The Grinch motioned to his mouth, and obediently, Auggie parted his lips again. Positioning himself so the tips of his hemipenes lay softly on Aug’s lips, the Grinch petted Auggie’s hair softly.

‘That’s a good boy. Now—don’t spill anything.’

_Wh—_

Both lobes of the Grinch cock erupted with scalding piss. Auggie’s gasp was cut off as he attempted to gulp down the steaming streams of urine, but ended up covering his chest and crotch with it all anyway, unable to stop thinking about how he was being made to aim the pissing cock at himself like he wanted it.

‘Like you’re just a messy fucking cunt of a Who who needs his upturned nose ground into the dirt.’

And he was, wasn’t he? Still hard and almost purple. Nipples like little pebbles. Not a single thought of begging to be released crossing his mind. All Auggie could think about was the Grinch’s double cock being rammed into him senselessly until he couldn’t see straight. He whimpered, on all fours, covered in rapidly cooling piss.


	5. Get My Name Out Of Your Filthy Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas comes just on time this year. I'm not sure these two know what time it is, though. Or even the day, or the year. chapter notes: the Grinch and Auggie finally make sweet love, or whatever the Grinch version of that is.

‘It’s my birthday, you know.’ Conversational, like he hadn’t just unleashed an acrid torrent on Auggie’s face.

  
‘Really?’ Auggie mumbled, his eyes screwed half-closed, drenched in Grinch piss.

  
‘No. But I’m taking my gift anyway.’

Spinning the hapless Who around on the wet floor, the Grinch roughly dislodged the ass hook that had been pressing into Auggie just enough for him to be constantly tortured, but never anywhere near satisfied. He noted how the pucker of Auggie’s ass stayed agape as he tried to jerk away from the over-stimulation. Wrapping the length of the rope still corded around Auggie’s stout neck over his fist a few times, the Grinch made a half-noise that might have been a chuckle, or a burp.

  
‘You look like you were made for leashes, Augustus. Might take you out back with Max sometime for walkies.’ Auggie’s balls contracted slightly, thinking about being dragged on the end of a rope with his cock out around the snowy mountains. ‘Max doesn’t need a leash, though. _He_ knows how to act.’

  
Auggie started breathing harder—whether in fear or arousal, he wasn’t sure—as the Grinch forced him to back up against his crotch. He was hard again, but of course he was. Feeling like he was attending Who-church service, Augustus closed his eyes, leaning back slightly on his knees. The sticky feeling on his skin mingled with his sweat. This was it. He was about to engage in the ‘homosexual intercourse’ he’d heard mentioned only once before, in a hushed and derisive tone, by one of his church-mates. A spasm ripped through his left foot as he cried out, feeling a furred green finger insert itself experimentally past his loosened sphincter, still more or less on fire from the pulped garlic inside him. With each panting breath, Auggie could smell the garlic on his own tongue. It had spread throughout his used body like the traitorous arousal that suffused him, even now. He, was helpless to resist the whims of the Grinch.

  
‘You’re supplying your own lube, you know that?’ The Grinch started fucking his single digit into Auggie, fur coated with a kind of slickness that Auggie’s slutty hole was exuding. ‘God, who’d have thought the future Mayor of Whoville was a self-lubricating bottom?’ Auggie’s desperate moans became a kind of glitching tremor. Everything he was proud of—his voice, his hair, his social standing—had been pissed on by the Grinch today. Tainted, yes. But in a way that made him writhe with self-loathing pleasure. The Grinch pulled back, then slid two in—but his fingers were so long and thick that he might as well have been fucking Auggie with a cock right then and there.

  
‘Okay, this is boring. I think we’re done here.’ The Grinch carelessly removed his hand and slapped Aug’s ass so hard it rang echoes in the air. Smarting from the sting, but even more so from the insult, Auggie’s scrambled mind struggled to find the one half-coherent thought in there.

  
‘B-but—but Auggie hasn’t come… yet.’ Auggie’s eyes were glazed and his voice, oddly childlike, trailed off.

  
The Grinch’s eyes gleamed. ‘What the fuck was that?’

‘Auggie—I—nothing.’ Vaguely, Auggie realised that he was probably not in the best state to demand things.

‘You refer to yourself in the third person?’

‘I—’

‘Like a toddler?’ he was already flipping Auggie onto his back and pushing his ankles towards his ears. ‘Here. Hands on ankles.’ A zipping sound brought Auggie back from his heady daze and assured him that, yes, the Grinch really was cable-tying his wrists to his ankles, spreading him wide open. His cock bobbed as the Grinch jostled him, angling his hips to slide into his hungry little baby hole. And he was hungry, and helpless, and aching—‘No need to wink at me. We’re well past the time for that.’ the Grinch said.

‘Huh?’

The Grinch looked pointedly down at his pulsing asshole, where Auggie could feel himself twitching. Smirking, he slid his length through and into Auggie. Aug cried and bucked, almost creaming himself. His breath hitched with every pounding thrust of Grinch-cock. _Yes—oh god. Yes._

‘This what you want?’

He looked up, blood ringing in his ears, and nodded wordlessly. He’d never wanted anything so hard in his life. The Grinch slammed back onto his sweet spot and Auggie thought a little bit of piss had squirted out with how good he was feeling. His hair had tangled into a jism-caked mess. He clutched at his own ankles to keep from bursting into pieces. Auggie was moaning unawares through his dry, gasping lips. ‘Fuck, yes. Fuck me Daddy. Fuck…your worthless whore. Make me your bottom boy bitch.’

 _So this is what he really is_ , the Grinch thought, choking him with the length of rope. He needs this, like a plant needs shit to grow. His cock brushed something inside Auggie that made him yell, and the Grinch nudged him back onto his shoulders, until Auggie’s cock was aligned exactly where he wanted it to be.

‘You feel good?’ Gasping, hunted breaths. ‘You gonna cum?’

Auggie’s face was screwed up in deep concentration. His pink tongue lolled, darting out to lick his lips every now and then. ‘Uh huh.’

The rhythm of the Grinch’s thrusts was deliberate and unrelenting. ‘Show me, pig.’

Auggie could take the onslaught no longer.

‘Yes—yes—yes—oh fuck. Oh Grinch.’ His mouth opened so wide you could see his back teeth.

‘Get my name out of your filthy mouth.’

Auggie made a noise like he was being throttled, and then choked for real, as he spurted thickly into his own mouth, held in place with a precision that was almost professional. He’d never wanted to taste his own cum, not even out of curiosity. He had no more tears, but the feeling that arose in him was like abasement, like a dredging of Whomanity. Like he was being taken apart.

A gargling sound, and then a wet slop, as the Grinch pulled out of him, still half-hard.

‘Get out.’ He was being dragged by the scruff to a—was that a trapdoor?

Mouth still reeking of jizz and garlic, the rope unravelling around his neck, the long tunnel to Whoville’s dumpster seemed like a hallucination. His clothes landed next to him, surrounded by what he felt like. Literal trash.

***

They kept asking where he had been. Why he reeked so badly, and what he had seen in the mountains. How were you up there so long, they said. You look so exhausted and shaken. Poor thing. You must be terrified. At first, he couldn’t even look them in the eye. It was only after having been pressed for the Whoompteenth time that he’d quavered, with something like desperation, ‘The Grinch. The Grinch.’

Back in his lair, the Grinch leant back, after having jacked himself off to the sight of Auggie tumbling down the garbage chute—rather, he’d jacked off into the rubbish chute after Auggie. For once, he was satisfied. Christmas had come early this year, and he? He’d come at just the right time, thank you very much.


End file.
